


i really was born to meet you

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: "So you want to tell me what's really bothering you?" Owain asked."Nothin'," Brady said again. The dark cloud hanging overhead were thickening, and he focused on that. "I just don't like this time travel malarkey."Owain put a hand on his shoulder. His skin felt very warm, and despite himself Brady felt himself relax under the touch."How come?" Owain asked.Brady scowled. He wished he hadn’t put his violin down so he could have something to do with his hands now, but picking it up again would have just looked foolish. Of course Owain wouldn't understand his worry. Owain loved fantastical magic and adventures. The thought that leaping through actualtime and spacewas a bad idea would never cross his mind.





	i really was born to meet you

**Author's Note:**

> I must have written this over a year ago, but I only found it again this evening. I might have intended to do more with it at some point, but I can't remember what those intentions were now and this fic reads pretty complete on its own to me, so I'm not sure what Past Me was waiting for. I hope you guys feel the same way! I love Brady, but it's been eight millions years since I've written him. I'm happy Past Me wrote this fic and seemed to have a better grasp of Brady's dialogue than I feel my present self does, lol. Brady/Owain is super cute, and I should really write more of it sometime. I've written more FE: Fates at this point, but Awakening has always been my favorite game.
> 
> Also yeah, that title is a NGE reference, OTL. It's a good line.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

He felt Owain coming before he ever saw him. Owain had always been the loudest of them, always announcing his presence as though he _wanted_ damn Risen to find them. Loud in the real world, and loud in Brady’s head. No part of Owain was anything short of noisy.

Only a split second passed between the itch in the back of Brady's mind signaling Owain's approach and when Owain actually opened his big mouth.

"Hark, Brady! See here! What dark cloud of doom burdens you so?"

Brady turned away, but Owain stepped in front of him, cutting off his hypothetical escape. Brady didn’t have any illusions he could actually run faster than Owain could catch him anyway. He just didn't feel like hanging around anybody else at the moment.

The sun was already beginning to dip over the horizon. There wouldn't be enough light for Brady to see the notes on his sheet music soon. His eyes were strained enough in the twilight as it was.

"You're the only dark cloud or whatever around here," Brady muttered, ignoring the overcast sky. He held up his violin. "I'm practicin' over here, so make like a dog and _get_."

"Practicing?" Owain said instead of leaving like Brady had told him to. He nodded to himself like this made sense. "Truly, a musician's soul never rests, even in times of great peril. No doubt you are composing a rapturous melody for the next leg of our journey, our glorious leap through time—"

"Will you shut up about the time travel stuff already?" Brady snapped. It was all he'd heard about all evening, and he was sick of it. The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Owain faltered for a moment. But of course it was only for a moment, because Owain bounced back from everything, always.

"Could this be?" he said too loudly. "Is our one and only priest apprehensive about our next move to conquer the evil that poisons this land?"

"Shut up already!" Brady growled. His grip on his violin felt slippery, so he set the instrument aside as an excuse not to look Owain in the eye anymore. "I ain't apprehensive about nothin'! I'm just tired of talkin' about it, all right?"

He swiped his sleeve across his face. Owain faltered again. The hand he usually kept close to his face for aesthetic purposes fell to his side.

"Brady?" Owain said, frowning, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you crying?"

"No," Brady said. He wiped his eyes again and twisted away. "I got allergies."

Owain sidestepped so he was in front of Brady again. There was no escape, and Owain had never had the social awareness to leave Brady alone when he was getting worked up.

"Your allergies came on pretty fast," Owain said. His hands hovered near Brady’s arms, not touching. Brady wished he’d make up his mind already.

He sniffed. "You're breaking character."

Owain sighed. He tugged a piece of cloth out of his pocket and held it out. Brady snatched the handkerchief out of his hand with a muttered, "Thanks."

Most of Ma’s dainty handkerchiefs had never been enough for Brady’s big crocodile tears, and the few that had worked semi-decently had ended up torn or lost or dirtied beyond belief in the past few years. Brady didn’t have the time or memory to find more. Owain always did, however, and the thought he was carrying them around for Brady’s sake made Brady’s breath hitch even more.

Owain’s concern prodded at Brady’s mind. Gods, Brady hated crying.

"So you want to tell me what's really bothering you?" Owain asked.

"Nothin'," Brady said again. The dark clouds hanging overhead were thickening, and he focused on that. "I just don't like this time travel malarkey."

Owain put a hand on his shoulder. His skin felt very warm, and despite himself Brady felt himself relax under the touch.

"How come?" Owain asked.

Brady scowled. He wished he hadn’t put his violin down so he could have something to do with his hands now, but picking it up again would have just looked foolish. Of course Owain wouldn't understand his worry. Owain loved fantastical magic and adventures. The thought that leaping through actual _time and space_ was a bad idea would never cross his mind.

"'Cause there's just a lot of risks, all right?" Brady grumbled. "We don't know if this is even gonna _work_ , and if it does, who knows where we'll end up? Probably all over the place! Maybe we won't even end up in the right time. Or some of us might and some of us _won't_ and then—"

He cut himself off, feeling a hard lump rising in his throat. And the tears had almost stopped flowing too. Damn.

Brady bit his tongue and wiped his eyes with Owain's handkerchief, trying to look normal even though he knew his face was crumbling.

Owain's hand tightened on his shoulder. When Brady looked up, Owain looked even more serious than usual.

"Do you recall the tale of my war-torn birth?" Owain asked.

Brady remembered the story, though he wasn't sure "war-torn" was the best word for it. Owain's birth had gone smooth enough until he had actually been _born_. Then it had been a nightmare, Ma had said. Nothing short of a miracle could get Owain to stop crying. His sobs echoed down the hallway so loudly everyone who had been waiting to meet the newborn prince winced. Some had even made excuses to leave. Not even Lissa could get him to calm down. The other clerics had worried something as wrong.

That was Owain, all right. Making too much noise before he was even an hour old.

Then Maribelle walked in holding Brady.

According to their mothers, Owain had frozen instantly, red-faced, squinting at Brady with newborn eyes. Despite the fact he'd managed to sleep through the cacophony of sobs that had been Owain's greeting to the world, Brady suddenly woke up from his nap on his mother's shoulder and looked back at Owain.

They stared at each other until Lissa, sweaty and exhausted as she was, giggled with delight. Then Owain started making the weird cooing baby sounds all infants made. He hadn't shut up since.

Brady had only heard the story about a million times. First from their parents, then from Owain himself. Owain’s mom and Brady’s Ma had loved repeating that story to anyone who would listen, bragging about how their children were meant to be the same bosom buddies their parents were. Their moms had talked about it all the time before.

Well. Before.

"Yeah, I remember," Brady muttered. His violin was resting on his makeshift music stand, so he ran the tip of his finger across the strings and tried not to think too hard.

"Then you know we are destined to be together!" Owain cried. He was grinning like an idiot, and he had taken up some kind of pose that was probably meant to be impressive. Brady thought he looked ridiculous. "Our souls recognized each other the day we met. The gods, including Naga herself, have deemed it be! You are I are fated to never part!"

The sun finally sank below the horizon. There was no rehearsing with the sheet music now. Brady rolled his eyes and placed his violin back in its case as Owain spoke. He got the feeling this would take a while.

He straightened, turning back toward Owain and said, "That sounds like a load of—"

"I swear to you," Owain interrupted, clasping Brady's hand between his own. He suddenly knelt down on one knee, right there in the dirt, like a knight swearing oath. Brady choked. "By the glorious light of the moon that shines down on us nightly, by the ancient spirit that fuels the sun, and upon my firebrand soul, I swear to you, Brady of the Moistened Eyes, that we shall not be apart. Be it by land or by sea—nay, even air—I will find you in the past.” Owain’s eyes were wide. Brady couldn't look away. “No matter where we end up, the powers of time and space cannot separate a bond as strong as ours. The gods have decreed it so."

The feeling in the back of Brady’s head that was distinctly _Owain_ had swelled with an uproar of emotion. Brady himself felt nearly overcome.

"And what if the gods haven't willed it, huh?" he could help but ask, voice shaking more than he would have liked. "What if you're just going on about nonsense, and Naga hasn't _decreed_ anything?"

Owain squeezed his hand so tightly Brady was afraid he'd break a bone. He winced, but Owain didn’t loosen his grip. Brady could feel every inch of Owain's calloused fingers on his skin.

"Then _I_ have declared it, here and now," Owain said confidently, knee still pressed to the dirt. "You shall never be alone, Brady of the Healing Touch. Our destinies are forever intertwined."

"You're somethin' else," Brady muttered. Something Brady could never describe. He sniffed, hoping it was dark enough that Owain couldn't see the tears that had once again gathered in his eyes. Owain stood up without letting go of Brady's hand.

He was shorter than Brady by several inches, but Brady's slouch made all the difference. Owain cupped the back of Brady's neck and pulled him forward until he could press his lips against Brady's forehead. His lips were warm and chapped, and they felt sweet against Brady’s skin until Owain pulled away.

With heat rising to his cheeks, Brady nearly snapped that he wasn't a kid and had a mouth like anybody else. Then he remembered his runny nose. Gross. He used the handkerchief again and grimaced.

"You're not my Ma," Brady groused, even as the skin on his forehead tingled pleasantly.

He and Owain had always been, as Cynthia once put it, Sort-Of-Not-Really-But-Kind-Of an item. Sometimes Brady almost felt that he and Owain were attached at the hip, for better or for worse. Even so, Brady could recall on one hand the number of times Owain had put his mouth anywhere near him. Not that he'd been counting.

Owain smiled back.

"Nor do I plan to be. I’ll leave that moniker to Maribelle."

To her memory, anyway. Owain slipped his hand into Brady's.

"Shall we go join the others?" he said. "Tis a fine night to enjoy each other's company before we begin rewriting history."

"Yeah," Brady allowed. "Sure." Especially if tonight was going to be the last night he'd actually be able to sit with each other before things got hairy.

"Hey," Owain said, breaking character again. He squeezed Brady's hand, gently this time. "We're going to be fine."

"I know," Brady said, even though he didn't know and he wasn't sure he believed it. He squeezed back.

 

* * *

 

The portal was truly a sight to behold, shining so brightly Owain had to squint in order to look at it directly, and even then his eyes watered.

He didn't have long to admire it, however, before his Exalted cousin stepped into the light. Lucina had already given a speech so inspirational even Gerome, face hidden behind his mask, appeared moved. There was nothing else to be said. When Lucina stepped forward, the light swallowed her whole.

Cynthia was the first to break ranks. With a whoop and a holler, sitting atop her Pegasus’ back, she charged toward the portal. Severa was hot on her heels, barking, "Hold up!"

The portal swallowed them both at nearly the same time. Owain hoped they'd end up together.

Before anyone else could step up, Owain smirked confidently and clutched Brady's arm.

"Finally," he cried, rather impressively if he did say so himself. "Let us gather the sands of time and rewrite the past!"

Somebody—probably Inigo—groaned. Brady realized what was about to happen right before Owain pulled him into the portal, but whatever he meant to say turned into a bark of surprise as Owain hauled him forward. He tripped over his feet, but Owain didn’t allow him to fall. The light burned brighter with every step they took.

Noire, clutching her talisman, howled something behind them. And then there was only light.

For a moment the only solid thing in Owain's reality was the feel of Brady's hand in his own. Brady’s long fingers, his dry skin, the calluses from his violin strings—Owain felt every groove and dip of Brady’s kind hand.

It was not to last, however; gravity hit them with more force than any Risen ever had, and Owain was suddenly aware of their awful, wrenching freefall. His heart flew to his throat as the air rushed around them. He clutched Brady’s hand desperately, but centimeter by centimeter, he felt a power beyond his control pulling them apart. The light was so brilliant that Owain could not even see Brady; he could only feel the cleric's hand in his own.

If Brady found himself able to speak the same way Owain found himself strangely unabl, his words were swallowed by the roar of the portal.

The tips of Brady’s fingers were suddenly wrenched away from Owain’s own. They separated.

In that same moment, Brady’s presence in Owain’s mind snapped as well. He had disappeared. For the first time in Owain’s life, he was well and truly alone.

For a moment he was seized with the horrible fear that Brady’s dread had been justified all along.

And then the light shattered, and there was the rush of real air rushing across his skin. He fell, the light of the portal a shrinking dot above him. The sky around it was bluer than any sky he had ever seen.

Then he hit the trees.

Owain’s fall was broken first by a tree branch, then another. Then several branches more, each knocking more air from his lungs than the last, each causing a fresh batch of stars to burst behind Owain’s eyes, and when Owain finally hit the forest floor, he was sure he’d swallowed enough leaves to become a tree himself. He was also sure his clothes were more twig than cloth. Everything ached. He was mostly sure, however, that nothing had been broken.

The first thing Owain had done after arriving in a new and unfamiliar world was experience a literal crash landing. The second thing he did was press his bruised forehead against the cool grass and groan. Loudly.

The quiet part of his mind, the part that had been labeled _Brady_ before it had gone horrifyingly dark moments before, lit up again. A gruff but happy feeling traveled down the back of Owain's neck. _About damn time_ , Owain translated.

His heart skipped a beat. The stiff tension in his shoulders relaxed.

Wherever— _whenever_ — he had ended up, Brady was okay. That was enough for Owain.

Everything was more or less in order, Owain noted when he stood up and brushed the worst of the leaves off. His limbs were sore from the fall, but he was a lot better off than he had expected. Even his sword was still in perfect condition. He had been a little afraid he'd lose it in the travel. Funny how Brady had slipped through his fingers but his sword had stayed close.

He looked around. Everything was trees, trees, trees as far as the eye could see—and Owain had pretty sharp eyes. There was nothing to indicate where he was. He was on his own for the next... however long it took to find somebody.

Idly, Owain wondered what year it was and where to start looking. The warm feeling labeled _Brady_ swirled in his head.

There was no sense in making him wait, Owain figured. They were fated to be together, after all. He’d find Brady eventually. Everything else would work out on its own.

With the certainty only heroes could muster, he picked a direction and started walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Remind me to write more Brady/Owain in the future. And for anyone who doesn't get the "about time" line, I figured that Owain probably took a little longer to appear in Past!Ylisse than Brady did. He got there in the end though. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)


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